Because sometimes it's better not to eat your feelings.

Tag: Drinking

On Saturday we took a little trip – Christian, Kaitlyn, Griffin, Drew, Becky and I – to Fort Collins. I live in Fort Collins for 5 years, went to school there and built a mountain of memories that I’ll always hold dear. We made a first stop at La Luz for a potato burrito, and it was just as good as remembered. If not better. Yum.

After a delicious burrito lunch and a stroll through Old Town we made our way over to New Belgium for a tour. If you’ve never taken the New Belgium tour it is something you MUST add to your to do list. I’ll give you a mini-sneak peak of the awesomeness:

You start your tour by the big red arrow and the girl in the yellow shirt that looks a little creepy:

They give you tons of beer samples — I had to pass mine off after a while:

Then tons of cool things all over the place, like the rings hanging from ceiling in brew house 2, a twisty slide, postcards you can send for free, and all kinds of wall art and sayings just to make you feel inspired:

We got a “private” tasting at the end:

Before heading over to the bar for our final sample:

It was great… and makes me miss Fort Collins even more! Try it out, I promise you won’t be disappointed!

It’s June. The middle of June, but it seems that mother nature has failed to get this memo. So, in order to move things on I have written a brief letter on behalf of myself and all of those in Colorado:

Dear Mother Nature,

Get with the freaking picture and work on summer and summer like temperatures.

Thankyouverymuch,

Megan and the rest of the state of Colorado

And back to our regularly scheduled programming: For as long as I can remember I have loved rain. I love the smell, the sound, the laziness, the everything that is rain. I always thought I was meant for the pacific northwest. I knew I needed to live in Seattle or Portland or somewhere else where rain was the primary weather. I thought if only it rained every single day that I would be infinitely happy. Well, that entire thought process, that was years in the making, changed drastically this weekend.

The weather this past weekend, well really the past 4-5 days has included rain/constant drizzle, fog, gray skies, temperatures in the 40’s and overall gloomy weather. This is not how it is supposed to be in Colorado, in June. For the freaking record.

I have since devised the top 10 reasons that I cannot live in a constantly rainy climate, all learned this weekend:

1.) Productivity will be 0. My mind will be completely and utterly occupied with thoughts of hot chocolate, fireplaces and good books. Day dreaming would hit an entirely new level.

2.) Weekends, what weekends? I will spend the entire weekend wanting to nap or snuggle. Because, after all the rain is perfect for napping and snuggling and doing absolutely nothing.

3.) I will go broke. Why you ask? Because movies are also perfect for rainy weather and I will spend my non-existent fortune on going to movies and buying cheesy chick flicks to watch from my bed. While drinking hot chocolate. Note: Starbucks bill will also increase due to hot chocolate consumption.

4.) I will get fat. See #1 and #3 for my activity levels and hot chocolate consumption which will be considerable contributors to my weight gain. But the major issue will be all the comfort food (mac n’ cheese, cake, potato soup) that I will make “because it’s rainy and I deserve it”. Who said curves and flub aren’t sexy.

5.) I will have to shave my head. My hair, here in CO, lives in a state of straight. I blow dry it straight and it more or less obediently behaves the rest of the day. However, with even the slightest hint of moisture, rain or humidity the waves break themselves out of their straightened ways and create a hodge podge of trailer mess on top of my head. So I’d have to shave my head to accommodate.

6.) I’ll never look fashionable. Sweat pants are required on rainy days, which have their merits. Attractiveness is not one of them. Also, trying on clothes when it’s cold and rainy? Not going to happen. Just get used to the sweatpants, there isn’t any other option.

7.) I will become a hermit. If traffic in Seattle/Portland/Other rainy cities is anything like Denver in the rain I wouldn’t handle it very well. There would be tears and shaken fists. After a few months I would most likely decide that traveling about isn’t worth my effort and hole up to watch movies in bed wearing sweat pants. Never leaving.

8.) I would become a drunk. Turns out that rain can make a girl like me feel a little down. Maybe it’s all that time to really sit and think and dwell and wonder. And then realize that life is full of all sort of complexities and that those complexities would be easier understood with a glass or two or three of red wine. Everyday. In the rain.

9.) My insurance would drop me. I’m a klutz and I fall, trip, slip and run into things on quite the regular basis. Now add slippery, wet conditions to my life and I’d become a regular resident of the local hospital. But, casts/stitches/bruising is really not all that appealing given my fear of needles and other pointy, stabby, broken things. After the incessant medical bills my insurance company would provide a tidy break-up letter.

10.) I’m out of ideas. So #10 is dedicated to my sad realization that I am not meant for rain. I’m also not meant for tiny swim suits. What?!? They are both water related.

So that’s what I learned. I have high hopes for the sunshine and high temperatures that are “predicted” for the coming week. Come on Mother Nature, I can only handle so many of your weather shenanigans.

I’m in the great state of Pennsylvania this weekend. I’m certain that anyone who has come into contact or had more than a 10 second interaction with me over the past month believes I’ll be arriving in Philadelphia with a bib strapped on, fork in hand. When it comes to Philadelphia all I talk about is the food. And my friend Liz. Obviously.

So far in my life there are two great cities for eating — I know there are probably a million more out there, but right now I just can’t seem to wrap my head around anything but the deliciousness in San Fransisco and Philadelphia. They’re both like Las Vegas for eating… What happens in Philly stays in Philly. We won’t mention the 5,000 calories I consumed that day or the bottle of wine and cake I had with dinner. Which of course never happened. I’ve been eating “healthy” (cough, ahem) the past few weeks with full anticipation that it would all go flying out the window once I landed in the capital of Philly Cheese steaks and canned cheese. When it’s time to return someone will have to pry a sandwich out of my plumped up hands. But that’s where I am. In case you’re wondering. Full update on my Philly adventures to come.

My friend told me I should blog about relationship advice. And I thought to myself, “What a great idea. I’m brilliant. And I have one of the most perfect relationships… [cough] with myself. Who wouldn’t want my advice?”

You know who wouldn’t? You. So here is my first, and last relationship column. Some general rules of wisdom.

1. Keep it in your pants. It’s only complicates things. Joy equals does not equal happiness.

2. You will be disappointed, just try not to be disappointed in each other at the same time. That’s when bad things happen.

3. If your friends don’t like him. You don’t like him. End of story.

4. Don’t talk to bartenders, and don’t date bartenders. Must I elaborate?

5. If your mom likes him, take him shopping because he probably needs a wardrobe change, a hair change, or a personality adjustment.

6. If he smokes, dump him. Who wants to date a dude with oxygen at the age of 35. Emphysema blows.

7. Baby Mama Drama = RUN FOR THE HILLS. DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200.

8. If he hates dogs, or other animals… he is probably a serial killer. Refer to Dexter before your next night out.

9. Girlfriends are disaster. Avoid guys with girlfriends. They can beat your face in with a bat and no on will feel sorry for you. Nose jobs cost a pretty penny I’ll have you know.

10. Don’t over analyze the lyrics of the songs on the CD they made you. Boys are stupid. They don’t know what they do. Just smile, pretend to be as oblivious as they think you are.

11. If he’s more flexible (as in can touch his toes with his wrists) than you are… ask some serious questions. There is more to that story. More than you probably want to know.

12. Men that hate small children, also hate God. Think about that.

13. If they like Disneyland… and admit it frequently. They probably also cried during “The Fox and Hound”. Is that someone you want to make out with.

14. Guys that only call you once a week (say on a Sunday) have you labeled. You’re Sunday girl. He, also, has a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday girl. Hope you’re good with sharing.

15. Don’t make out when you drink. Wait, what am I telling you. Be free my little butterfly.

Now, if you’re stupid enough to follow my advice, you need to 1) seek professional help and 2) get your IQ checked. Again this will be the first and last of my romantic advice for the foreseeable future. Have a good night.

Once again, it’s moving season here in the Megan and Meghan household. You ask “What is this talk of moving season?”. Well I am here to fill you in on the wonders and joys of moving season.

Moving season is like being pregnant with out the morning sickness and birth of a jam handed, sticky child nine months later. You can eat what you want, when you want because after all god forbid we waste food. At the same time eating out everyday is equally acceptable as you don’t want to dirty the dishes you already packed or exert any additional energy planning a meal.

In our house moving season also consists of burning a new CD featuring the likes of Kelly Pickler, Miley Cyrus, Madonna and other artists that allow us to sing out our frustration at the fact that the hand blender just *won’t* fit into that box. We also take advantage of the ability to drink. Wine, blended beverages, bloody mary’s, mojitos etc. Similar to food we just can’t let good alcohol go to waste… we would have to do some serious repentance if we did that. Maybe I could hit up the confessional for that one… then again maybe not.

So if you’re having a dull day or are in need of some strategically placed frustration head on over. We’ll feed you creamed corn, Lima beans, and a half a trout (that’s really all we have left), while making you a mojito with brandy (well after all we drank the rum already, geez you have high expectations).

I’m not sure why the housing gods hate me, but they really, REALLY do. I’m moving at the end of July… and that will be my fourth official move in a little over a year. Think about it. Pack the box, load the box, unload the box, move the box into the new house, unpack the box, store box for next move (times 50 + furniture).

Can’t wait for the packing to begin. My roommate and I have decided that packing/moving time also equal boozing time. As this is our third move together we have become somewhat expert movers… and consequently boozers. What isn’t more fun than shoving all your crap into a box for the thousandth time and drinking 8 Bloody Mary’s in an afternoon? You tell me. I’ve got nothing.

Plus, poor Charles DOES NOT handle moving well. As far as I can understand (or blindly guess) he believes I’m packing and leaving him to be a stray dog forced to fend for himself against to intensely fierce coyote population of Colorado. To say the least, it is a traumatizing time for him… and for all that suffer through his bi-polar mood swings.

Hi! I'm Megan - a wife and mama trying to wrangle the chaos and hilarity of life. Also, food is my one of my many true loves.